


the heart wants what the heart wants

by MarzgaPerez



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Feels, Fuck I’m Going to Miss Them, M/M, Memories, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Mild Sexual Content, Pensive!Mickey, Season 11, Sentimental, The Look (TM)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzgaPerez/pseuds/MarzgaPerez
Summary: Two Milkovich cousins have a smoke and a chat. Sort of.Set between S11E4 & E5Also, Mickey loves Ian, so yeah...
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich & Sandy Milkovich
Comments: 9
Kudos: 150





	the heart wants what the heart wants

It’s close to nine o’clock at night, and Mickey is really fucking bored. Probably has something to do with the fact that Ian is over at Lip and Tami’s place, singing his nephew Fred to sleep, no doubt. He likes to do that shit from time to time.

Mickey was invited to come along, but he had a pretty good excuse to stay back at the Gallagher house and keep an eye on things, what with the recent Milkovich infestation next door. Mickey isn’t exactly on good terms with Terry or any of the other nazi fuckheads his father’s recruited into the “family,” but they pretty much leave him alone. 

As far as real family goes, Mickey’s siblings all live outside of Chicago now, the ones he stays in touch with anyway. Of course, he has Ian and his Gallagher appendages, and as far as blood relatives who are close by, Mickey has Sandy.

And her timing, as usual, is spot on. Mickey’s finishing up a beer at the kitchen table when she breezes in through the back door with her usual aura of controlled chaos. Drama seems to follow Sandy wherever she goes, but for the moment, she turns her focus to Mickey.

“Hey. Share a smoke with me?”

“Sure,” he replies.

“Can I bum one?” she asks, giving him a knowing wink, a shared understanding that she’ll owe him next time. Not that they’re keeping count.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Mickey nods in the direction of the back porch. They’ve taken to using it for smoke breaks. Easier to avoid their idiot neighbors/relatives.

“Where’s your husband?” Sandy asks, lighting the cigarette Mickey’s handed her. She situates herself on the step just below him and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Did I miss another lover’s quarrel?”

“Fuck no,” Mickey replies, almost defensively, then evens his tone. “He’s at Lip’s.”

“Okay.”

Mickey lightly nudges the small of her back with his boot. “Speaking of hot-headed redheads, where’s your side piece?”

“Dunno. Guess she’s over there, too. I’m not in the mood for family fun.”

“Needed a break myself,” Mickey agrees. 

“Yeah? You sure everything’s okay?” Sandy takes a slow drag from the cigarette before passing it back to Mickey. “I mean, Jesus, the way you and Ian are at each other’s throats. All the damn bickering. Is that common for newlyweds?”

Mickey isn’t sure if his cousin is just talking out of her ass for the hell of it or trying to get a rise out of him. She likes to do that sometimes—stir shit up and play therapist. 

She has eyes, doesn’t she? And ears. Sandy’s been shacking up with Debbie long enough to _see_ and _hear_ most of the arguments he’s had with Ian.

‘Course, she’s also gotten an earful of all the banging they’ve been doing and once, an eyeful. That happened one afternoon when no one else was supposed to be at the house. He and Ian couldn’t be bothered with climbing the stairs to their room, not after the redhead came home from work early and had already texted his premeditated plan to eat Mickey out. 

They’d gotten as far as the couch in the front room, clothing piled in a small heap on the floor. Ian was going to town on Mickey’s ass, and Sandy walked right in on them. Ian was too busy to notice her, and Mickey, equally distracted but aware of her presence, shrugged sheepishly. As soon as Sandy’s brain and feet had made sense of what was happening, she got the fuck out of there.

Maybe Mickey should feel a little guilty, but honestly, the memory just makes him laugh.

“Me and Ian, we’re good,” he says matter-of-factly, flicking the ashes from the tip of the half-burned cigarette through the slats of the porch.

Over the years, the two men have been put through the wringer, and Sandy knows about most of it. As Mickey’s cousin and occasional confidant, she tends to take his side whenever there’s a conflict. A lot of that has to do with wanting to ease the burden from his shoulders, knowing that Mickey is often more than willing to take on all the blame when things go wrong, particularly where Ian is concerned. 

He appreciates her support, knows it comes from a good place, but he’s fine. A very long time ago, Mickey accepted the fact that his unwavering devotion to that freckle-faced ginger would likely knock him on his ass—more than once. 

_But nothing, nothing in this world_ , Mickey has come to realize, _is better than being the object of Ian Gallagher’s affection._

How many times has he forgiven Ian for his fucked-up life choices? About the same number of times Ian has forgiven him. Besides, Mickey’s never been interested in keeping track of the ways they’ve hurt each other. There’s only one thing that matters when it comes to him and Gallagher: how to get rid of anyone or anything that gets in the way of them being together. And there’s one simple reason for that.

~~~~~~

It all started with a _look_ , back when they were teenagers. Mickey fell hard for the guy giving him that _look_. He fell so fuckin’ hard. 

It took him some time to be comfortable with his feelings. It took him some time to accept his fate. But there it was at every turn—that _look_ from Ian. That _look_ of genuine want and need.

When the _look_ evolved into something more, it scared the shit out of Mickey. Because that other person, giving him the _look,_ actually _cared_ about Mickey, actually _believed_ in Mickey. Ian saw him as someone with _potential_ and wanted him to be safe and loved and to have all the things he knew Mickey hardly ever had.

_That_ fucking beautiful person wanted to give him those things.

Sadly, there was a time when Mickey couldn’t accept that kind of love—not without strings—because he feared for both of their lives, maybe Ian’s more than his own. He needed Ian to wake the fuck up and accept reality. That was the first time in their relationship Mickey failed to hold onto Ian—when the little bit of himself that he _could_ give Ian wasn’t enough.

So the redhead left town, went to find himself in the army, and even if Mickey could have given him something more, somehow find a way, it was too late. Ian was gone. And Mickey went numb.

Until Ian was back. And once given the opportunity, Mickey made sure to let Ian know, and eventually everyone else, that nothing would keep them apart. That person— _his_ person—with that _look_ was back in his life, and Mickey felt fuckin’ invincible.

Until he didn’t. Right around the time before Ian was diagnosed with bipolar disorder—another goddamn opponent for Mickey to battle. And when he thought they’d almost won, on the cusp of victory, Ian was snatched away from him, literally, by those fuckin’ MPs, by meddlin’ family members, by Mickey’s need for revenge, by Ian’s need for normalcy and healing, by one injustice after the next. Mickey had failed, once again, to hold onto Ian.

And there had been rage. So much rage. Some of it was Mickey trying to deny how hurt he was and some of it was Mickey trying to make sense of why things always went wrong. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate Ian for any of it. Hating Ian would only mean hating himself, and what would that get him? Sure, Mickey could be hard on himself, but he never, ever fucking gave up when there was something worth fighting for.

He wanted to believe Ian was the same way—at least, when it came to the two of them. Because there it was again—that _look—_ when he first spotted Ian at the bleachers in his EMT uniform. Mickey’s first thought after busting out of prison: _find Ian_. His second thought: _have him kidnapped_. And that was about as much “harm” he was willing to inflict on Ian for any of his past transgressions.

Mickey didn’t know much about what Ian had been doing all those months, but he did know, with one _look_ , one yank of his collar, one press of his nose against Ian’s, that the asshole had _waited_ for him and still fucking wanted him. The words “I have a fucking boyfriend” came up briefly, somewhere in the middle of the two of them consuming each other, but was soon forgotten as Ian made quick work of claiming Mickey as his own all over again.

They’d gotten so close. So close to starting their fucking forever. But there were things Mickey couldn’t give Ian. He couldn’t give him any guarantees that their life on the run wouldn’t be a total shitshow. He couldn’t guarantee stability or even access to what Ian would need to manage his bipolar. Sure, Mickey had taken major risks to get out of prison, convince Ian to join him, and haul ass down to the Mexican border, but it still wasn’t enough for them to stay together.

As Mickey was driving away from Ian towards the border station, trying not to look back at him in the rearview mirror, telling himself to keep going, he was hit with this strange sense of calm. This wasn’t the end. This wasn’t _their_ end. Still hurt like a bitch to be Ian-less, once again, but Mickey was going to have to bide his time and get creative when the right opportunity presented itself. 

_Fucking Gallagher._ Never was that _look_ more prominent than the time Mickey surprised him at Beckman. His raven-haired paramour turned around, eyes blinking rapidly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, lips slightly parted as he muttered the words “holy fuck.” Of course their stars were finally going to fucking align in a goddamn prison cell. 

And the rest was history. Their stint as cellmates was the beginning of their final beginning...

Sure, it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing ever since, but they’ve been through worse. Somewhere in the middle of the squabbling, pig-headedness, and a few “breaks,” there was a wedding ceremony, where two men who were pegged to fail at life a long time ago, showed everyone what love is all about.

Choppy waters are more like an adventure when you’ve got your lifeboat handy and a lighthouse within view.

~~~~~~

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Sandy says, waving her hand in front of Mickey’s face.

He snaps out of his trance, just in time to stub out the cigarette and avoid burning his fingers.

“Doin’ what?” Mickey asks innocently, suddenly aware that his mouth has settled into a big ass goofy grin, now that his mind has caught up to the present.

“Forget it,” Sandy says, lightly patting the top of Mickey’s head as she stands up. “I’m going to bed,” she tells him, probably sensing he’s not in need of any “therapy” at the moment.

And he isn’t. He’s happy, even with his goddamn thorn-in-his-side father living a few yards away. Maybe that’s what’s prompted Sandy to worry, to try to get him talking. She knows what a disease Terry can be. But maybe Mickey’s finally found a cure.

“Yo, Sandy,” Mickey calls out before she’s closed the door behind her.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for listening.”

She chuckles lightly before heading inside and responds, “Sure. Anytime.”

After she’s gone, Mickey pulls out another cigarette, looks around the yard, and realizes he’s bored again. There’s only one place he wants to go right now, one face he wants to see.

His feet carry him over to Lip’s faster than he would care to admit, and right as he’s about to knock on the front door, it opens.

“Hey! I’ve been texting you,” says Ian, and Mickey can see a hint of the _look_ forming on his husband’s face. It’s evident, even in the porch light, that Ian is amused and surprised and just fucking happy to see him. “Mick, why didn’t you—” 

And goddammit, Mickey can’t stand it any longer. He can’t stand to have anything between him and Ian, not space, not air, just...not anything. He needs him like he needs oxygen. Always has, always will. 

He silences Ian with a kiss—a kiss he knows the redhead will ask him about later. Mickey’s not the romantic one, he’s not spontaneous, either, not when it comes to showering Ian with random bursts of affection.

But it’s what he needs in this moment, and anytime he wants it now, all he has to do is reach out and grab it. Ian can wonder all he wants about what brought on this sudden gesture of tenderness. From the way both of their hands are starting to roam, Mickey’s convinced things are about to get even more tender. 

An added bonus: Mickey noticed Terry sitting in his front yard as he sprinted over to Lip’s house. Maybe he’ll still be there when he and Ian walk home. And maybe they’ll leave their window open all night long so that anyone within earshot will know just how much Mickey loves Ian.


End file.
